


Empirical Studies in Human Relationships

by Oparu



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Trek Rarepair Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 19:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: Tilly invites Michael to a party, not really as a friend, more like more than a friend. Former Emperor Philippa tags along and gets into absolutely no trouble. None at all.And Michael's experiences of parties improves.





	Empirical Studies in Human Relationships

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tin-can-spaceship](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tin-can-spaceship).



> set in the vague future of season 2, rather fluffy with a little kissing.

Having a scientist thing was new. She usually didn't find herself enamoured with people she worked closely with. Sylvia Tilly's crushes had been more distant, more separated from who she had to work with every day. 

The difference in rank was a problem, not an insurmountable one, because Michael wasn't her direct superior, Stamets was, and she wasn't the first officer, but she was a commander and Tilly was newly an ensign so there would be paperwork. 

She really wouldn't be worrying about this so much if the barriers to asking Michael out weren't so high. The last (and only) person she'd ever kissed before had been a Klingon spy with his (rather nice) human personality grafted on top of it and tried to kill her. So, really, anything Tilly came up with for a first date was better than that. 

There was like an absolutely minute chance of Tilly ever being able to even remotely kill Michael, or that she'd want to, and even less of a chance that Tilly was a spy because really, someone could make a way better personality if they wanted to fake something. 

No one wanted to fake something like her. 

Michael left engineering, and Tilly must have watched her walk away for way too long because when she looked back, Lt. Stamets stood grinning at her. 

"So?"

"So what, sir?"

"Don't play coy with me, Ensign, I invented coy." He batted his eyelashes for emphasis. "You would not believe how long I pretended not to think Hugh was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen."

"Oh?" Maybe if he talked about that, they could not talk about Michael.

"Don't 'oh' me." He wagged his finger at her then tilted his head towards the spore garden. "Come on we need to check our reserves anyway." 

_ Dammit _ . 

Of course, once they were sealed in with the spores, they really were trapped and Stamets set down his tools and crossed his arms. "Spill."

"Lieutenant, I genuinely do not know what you are talking about. It would be entirely inappropriate of me to have feelings for a superior officer, especially a commander."

"Recently a commander, who used to be your roommate." He touched her shoulder. "Do you just miss sharing your room?"

Rolling her eyes was not strong enough, but it made him laugh. 

"I might be wrong about the fraternization rules because I only glanced at them very very briefly, but, she's not your direct superior."

"No, you are--"

"And I'm taken."

"Yes, sir."

"Then ask her out."

"Yes, it's that easy, lieutenant. I just ask her out."

"You could try annoying her with Kasseelian opera, but she might kind of like it. She seems like she'd have annoying Vulcan-like taste in music." Stamets reached out and caressed one of his brilliant mycelium. "Maybe get her some flowers? Take her to the party."

"She first danced with Ash at the party."

"Then she needs some new memories, besides, the fact that we're not trapped in a repeating time loop and about to die over and over means that this party will be significantly better than the last one." He held up his hand, still glittering with stray spores. "Go get her."

Tilly slapped his palm with his, trying not to blus, or look awkward, but she failed, at both. "Aye, sir."

<hr>

Two glasses of synthehol later, she stood outside of Michael's quarters, hair up, kind of wild because she always felt more powerful when her hair was in some style that her mother would massively disapprove of. This, she would loathe, so that gave her enough courage to touch the door chime. It rang once, and Michael didn't respond. Was she still on the bridge? Had she gone to the party already? Was she working?

Tilly touched it again, but the door slide open, Michael, still in her uniform, stood there. "Tilly."

"Sorry, I guess I really wanted to make sure you heard me." Stupid answer, but Michael smiled. Why did she have the best smile in the quadrant? How did that happen? 

"Come in." Michael sighed, reaching for her uniform's zipper. "At least you knock."

That comment made no sense at all until Tilly walked in. The former leader of the evil Terran Empire sat on Michael's couch, drink in hand. She looked up, grinning at Tilly. 

"Well, Killy, aren't you a wonderful surprise?" For once, she wasn't clad in tight black leather, or armor, but something almost normal. Dark green, still tight, still radiant with menace, but...she looked like a civilian.

That was probably the point.

(If a civilian was even allowed to be terrifying like that.)

"Hello, Captain-Emperor--"

"Oh, Philippa please."

"Uh--" there was no way in all the frozen hells of Andor she could call the Emperor by her first name. 

"Agent is fine, Tilly," Michael said gently, touching her arm. "Philippa has joined Section Thirty-One, she dropped by to tell me about her adventures and make sure I'm behaving myself."

"There's never any doubt that  _ you _ are behaving yourself," the Emperor muttered over her drink. "Tilly on the other hand looks like she's full of delightful thoughts."

"There's a party and I thought you, Michael you, might want to go, but if you, Agent Georgiou, wanted to go I'm sure you'd be welcome." She'd probably hate it, or end up really drunk, or get other people really drunk and seduce some of the new crew members who didn't know she was really really evil.

How did anyone move like that? 

The Emperor leaned forward and smiled. "Michael could use a party. She's been moping ever since that half-breed thing--"

"If you can't be civil, you can leave," Michael reminded her with a bravery Tilly would never, ever have. "He needs to figure himself out. Do his own work. I have work I need to do too."

"Work?" Not tonight, surely. It was their first chance for a party and Tilly was all dressed up and she even had lucky spores. Michael had to come. 

"Not that kind of work." Michael waved Tilly in and handed her a glass. "Whisky? It's Aldeberan, which means it's green, and strong, but you--"

Tilly took the glass and down the few centimeters of liquid. It burned way more than the syntheol and she winced. "That is strong."

"You can take it," the Emperor murmured, trailing her fingers over her own glass. "That was one of your favorites."

"Did I garnish it with blood?"

"Only on the good days."

Michael filled her own glass, and Tilly's and stared at the most terrifying woman in the quadrant as if she were a poorly behaved cadet. "I was just saying that I have things I need to work out before I date anyone again."

"Oh? Like what?"

The Emperor stared, smiling, and she almost looked nice. Like she cared, and could be the mentor Michael had admired so much in Captain Georgiou. She almost could be her, sort of, the eyes were never right. "Do tell us, Michael." 

"I have to get over my fear," Michael said, finishing her whisky. "Fear that the next person I open myself up to will hurt me the way he did, fear that I don't deserve to be happy with another person, fear that I'm just not worthy of that kind of affection."

"Michael, you are the most worthy person I know." Too fast, too honest and fuck, the Emperor's scary scary eyes were on her now, unblinking. 

"Thanks, Tilly." Michael shook her head, trying to force herself out of her melancholy. "Maybe I should go to the party."

"Yes!" Too enthusiastic. Too happy. Too desperate, but Michael only squeezed her hand. Maybe she didnt think those things. Michael always seemed to think nicer things than 

"All right, you can come too, if you want. It'll probably be far more clothed than you're used too--"

"I'll find a way to make it interesting." The Emperor stood, flipped her hair behind her shoulders and then finished her drink without wincing at all. "Seems like in this universe I always have to make my own fun." 

Pulling closer to Michael, Tilly leaned in. "Do we really want her to make her own fun? We don't, right?"

"She can behave at a party, Section Thirty-One's been putting time into helping her blend in to this universe." Michael kept her voice soft, but Agent Georgiou, former Emperor Georgiou, winked at Tilly when they walked into the corridor.

What was her idea of fun at a party? Was babysitting the murderous version of Michael's former captain really how they wanted to spend the evening? Did it matter if Michael was with her? She'd been through some really terrible things, and Michael being there tended to make them less terrible. 

* * *

 

"Tell me those aren't real spores?" Michael asked when Paul asked her to dance. "We don't have actual mycelial spores on the ceiling."

"They're entirely benign, and mostly contained," he promised, grinning at her and pulling her close to dance with him. "I promise the risk of death at this particular party is far far away."

She nodded, momentarily distracted by Philippa intimidating the three ensigns by the drinks and the way everyone parted around her. Was she scaring them? Or was it just the aura of power she carried with her? 

"I think between the three of you you've covered the mythical aspects of female personality. Tilly is your maiden, fresh-faced and innocent, you, who cannot stop worrying are the other, and Emperor turned agent is the Crone, reminding us all of the spectre of death."

"You said no death at this party."

"Being reminded that it exists is different from turning to ashes, I promise." He spun her out then brought her back in, swaying with her to the music. "Besides, I think she's fun."

"She hasn't been down to engineering to terrify you."

"No, and it's letting me continue to think she's fun." He stared past her, catching something that made his smile glow. "Speaking of fun, I think you should have some."

"What?" She tried to follow his eyes, but she only found Tilly, dancing with a group of their new science crew. They were having a great time, laughing, and Tilly was in her element, comfortable with parties in a way Michael never had been. She could get tongue-tied in a meeting, but here, she was happy. 

Their eyes met and something shifted, tickled. Michael looked up at the spores, just to make sure they were still there and not falling on her. 

Paul's smile carried warmth though her chest. "What do you think?"

"She has a thing for soldiers, or musicians, I am neither of those things." 

"I don't know about your talent for music, but you can't pretend you're not a warrior." He tapped her chest. "I've heard stories, many of them from her." 

"We're friends."

"Great, friends is a great place to start." He spun her again, but when she twirled towards Tilly, somehow Paul disappeared, leaving Michael standing before Tilly, undefended. Most certainly not a warrior, not brave or bold.

Tilly offered her hand. "Michael, come get a drink." 

Start with that. Drink, let that take the edge off. Tilly was not brooding, she rambled her secrets instead of carrying them. She was the one person on the ship Michael trusted most. Amanda spoke of love that way, of how she knew Sarek's affection for her would carry through anything. He always listened, always saw the best in her.

And in her way, Amanda lit Sarek's universe. Michael had felt that when they shared his mind. Perhaps it was the Vulcan intensity of his emotions that made it so vivid. Michael did not love like that, and she could not love like that. 

Tilly's soft blue eyes reflecting the thousands of spores covering the ceiling and neither of them noticed the others leaving them alone. Tilly didn't ask her to dance, but that's what they were doing, where they were headed and the music thumped through her, echoing her heart. 

"You dance better than you think you do," Tilly whispered in her ear. 

"I had time to practice in the time loop." That wasn't entirely untrue, but Tilly shook her head. 

"Maybe you don't give yourself enough credit for the things that you do." 

"I've never been good at this, any of this, talking to people, celebrating, dancing. Humans are loud, chaotic--"

"That's part of the fun."

Maybe it could be fun. Perhaps there was something pleasant in this, not just the swirling lights of the spores above, but the music, the thrumming of th emotions in the crowd. Maybe what mattered was the release. Letting go of all the walls they held up, of themselves, of their worries and their duties, just for a night. That was human, like Tilly, like the rebellious heat in Michael's stomach. 

The lights slipped away, and all of them stood in the light of the spores. The music continued so it wasn't the power, this was intentional. Part of her wanted to fix it, to see how they'd knocked out the light, but Tilly's hands were warm on her back. 

"Wait."

Michael started to ask, but then the spores started to fall, baptising them all in light. Her thoughts wandered through what species of spores they must be and what would happen to them once they'd been absorbed by the crew and the deck but she had to stop thinking about it. Spores in Tilly's hair lit her curls, blue within the red and Michael reached for her cheek, touching her skin while the darkness held them. 

No one would see. Even if they did, no one would care. The lights were probably off to procide such an opportunity for closeness. That terrifying chance of intimacy. Her first kisses with Ash were stolen from death. 

This was about taking her life, taking chances, being human, with all the chaos and noise and heart-racing in her eyes. 

Amanda said connection to another person could be as intense as a plasma shock, or gentle like rain over th desert. One person could be many things, could be everything. How she loved Sarek like a poet when he loved her like a Vulcan had never made sense to Michael. Love had never made sense to Michael. It was as alien as Wonderland, but all great leaps of character, and of faith, required facing that fear. Loud as it might be. 

"If you're going to kiss me, you should do it while it's still dark, I think that's kind of the idea." 

Sometimes, you had to jump down that rabbit hole, deep and dark and unknown. Then soft, warm, sweet like that fruity Betazoid cocktail Tilly liked so much. 

Shutting her eyes, she leaned into it, pressing their bodies together as their lips met. `kissing was fun. She'd sat and listened to Tilly, Kayla and Joann talk about kissing, sitting silently while they spoke of joy and warmth.

Now she lived it, losing her breath to Tilly while spores drifted through them, blessing them with light. 

After a blissful eternity, the light returned, along with whooping. Something was happening, far more exciting than the music or the return of the light. Was it them? Michael's face burned before she even had a moment to look around. They couldn't be drawing those cheers. Them kissing wasn't that interesting. 

"Oh, my, sweet sacred tribbles, Michael, look at them." 

Them? Following the eyes of the entire party, she found two women: both humanoid, dark hair, civilian clothing. The shorter one held the other pinned to the bulkhead, their hands tangled in each other's hair and clothes and their mouths pressed together as if letting go would end them. Maybe end the whole universe. 

Kissing was a sweet thing, a soft motion, like the brush of spores against their skin. This was something else entirely, violent and possessive, as searing as a photon torpedo. The whooping only intensified when they broke, more for breath than out of any sort of regret at the scene they were causing.

One of them nibbled the other's neck and Michael recognized the green shirt, and Philippa's long, straight hair. The other woman took her a moment longer to know, but even in the weak lighting that was Admiral Cornwell. 

Philippa turned from her neck, eyeing the room as if she would fight each of them, or all at once, to claim her prize. For her part, the admiral smiled and took Philippa's hand. There was no embarrassment, no self-loathing or recrimination. Hand in hand, they met the eyes of the room.

"Carry on," the Admiral said with a wink. Then they left, hands entwined, Even the music seemed to pause in respect of their exit before the thudded bass returned.  

"Did you know they were--?" Tilly started.

"I had no idea."

"It looked fun."

"Being pressed against the bulkhead?"

"Maybe not publically, but there's one in my quarters and that thing with her neck-" she broke off, teasing Michael's neck with her fingertips. "Maybe it's a Terran thing, but it looked nice."

Nice was an understatement and Michael shivered when Tilly kissed her again. "Maybe one more song?"

"Or two...just to build your anticipation." 

Chuckling, Michael bent and kissed Tilly's neck gently. "In the name of anticipation then." 

Tilly shivered in her arms, and they pressed a little closer. "I hear it's one of the best parts."

"One of."

"I suppose we'll have to find out." 

Lifting her chin, Tilly met her eyes. "We will." 


End file.
